5 Times Bernie Makes A Mess And The One Time She Sorted It Out
by LivesUnderTheSea
Summary: 5 times Bernie makes a mess and the 1 time she actually did something about it. Various scenes that popped into my head and soon became 5 1!
1. Chapter 1

_**A fic idea that popped into my head in numerous forms so became a 5 times one!**_

 _Jesus Christ!_

Serena closed her eyes slowly, filling her presence with a soothing darkness for just. One. Moment. Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled, a long drawn breath through gritted teeth, holding on to the short lapse of reality.

"I love you, Berenice, I really do, but would it _kill_ you to pay attention for once!" Serena started calmly but her voice grew with frustration, chucking the jeans over the bathside and swinging the door violently, it bouncing with a thump against the wall.

"What now?" Bernie all but mumbled, rolling over from lying flat on her front on top of the bed, eyes flitting to the window Serena now blocked the light from, hands on her hips, stern expression to her face.

Oh, shit.

"What did we do last Thursday, Bernie?" Serena slowly asked, her heightened pitch one of curiosity, one that made Bernie glance quickly to the door, planning how many moves it would take to get out-4 leaps, including a bounce from the bed- you know, just in case it called for that.

"Uh," Bernie scattered her fingers through her hair, casting briefly over the last week.

Thursday- the first day her and Serena had off together in eons. The first day both consultants had been truly free from the ward, which they'd both anticipated for weeks before, since the rota had worked that far in advance. Usually, the closest the couple got to time together was one coming into the house long after a bold darkness fell to the skies, and the other being compelled to report to AAU after a later breakfast together the following morning, as the early morning mist was finally burning off in the rising sun.

"We went to the beach…" She finally responded.

Well, gone for a walk and ended up on the beach. Bernie had woken that morning, Serena wrapped around her as they often ended up, knowing exactly where she wanted to take her for the day. From the open curtain (she'd forgotten to close last night), Bernie could see the vibrant, cloudless skies dropping behind dense woodland, the deep evergreens lighting in the strong rays of the early sun. Her attention had been drawn back to Serena, who mumbled something resembling a 'good morning' and snuggled into her again, warming Bernie's heart greater than any sunshine could.

"And what is _at_ the beach, Ms Wolfe?" Serena briefly smirked, stalking closer to the bed.

Bernie paused for a moment, biting back her obvious answer, trying to figure out what Serena was really on about…

"The sea?" She closed on eye from the harsh streak of sunlight bouncing from the glittered window, bracing herself for Serena retort- but seriously, she had no idea where this was going.

"True," Serena nodded, eyes widened in accepting the point. "But not exactly what I was thinking."

"Sun."

"Nope."

"Shells."

"No."

"Ice cream?"

"Not _exactly_ the beach, more the car park."

"Rocks."

"Close…"

Bernie leaned forward, smiling up to Serena before pulling a puzzled expression.

"Sand Bernie! Blood sand!" she threw her hands up into the air, before letting them fall pathetically, falling into her. "Except, half of the bloody beach is still in my jeans!"

Bernie dived back down into the pillow, arms over her head, before perking up again to defense.

"Why is that my fault?! They're your jeans! You were wearing them!" She refrained from laughing, purely because of the sincere look on her girlfriend's face and, though so trivial, it was beginning to whip up an anger in Bernie too. Why was this her fault too?

"Ah," Serena held her hand up, "We came back and I ran for a shower. You took my jeans and I _specifically_ said 'Don't forget to unroll the bottoms because the sand will stay in them' and you replied saying you'd done it! And now, I have a beach for a bathroom and have to wash those again!" She swiped her hand across in the direction of the bathroom door, before turning her attention back to a quiet Bernie, who now sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a challenged look on her face.

"I thought you said-" Bernie stopped, stalled, gave up on realising she couldn't make anything credible up in the time, as Serena raised her eyebrows, unconvinced. It was pointless trying to dig herself from this one.

"So?" Serena prompted, hand back to her hips. Her face fell as she saw Bernie's grin and then heard her giggle soon afterwards. "Oh, I'm glad it amuses you!" She crashed down next to Bernie, who had let go of any hope in concealing the hilarity.

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounded?" Bernie wiped a tear from her eye and moved closer to put an arm around Serena.

"Sod off," Serena spat back, but a grin curled on her lips at the utterance, before dissolving into chortles of laughter too.


	2. Chapter 2

She hadn't intended for this to happen, still was puzzled as to how it had happened, actually. Bernie stood across the kitchen, hair in more of a startled mess than usual, one hand subconsciously to her chest; the heavy, fast rhythm pounded strongly through her palm. Across the sleek table top, Bernie's latest victim sat, smoke rising from both sides, flushing the surfaces with a grey smog and rising upwards, faded into the air. Said victim happened to be Serena's new microwave.

In fact, it had been Bernie's fault they'd needed to seek out a replacement in the first place, when she'd been helping move the kitchen around, hefting the microwave had been an underestimated task. The thing was like shifting a rock from Stonehenge and Bernie had, quite majestically, managed to trip over _nothing_ and resulted in the thing plummeting to the seemingly in-destructive flooring. Tiles one, Microwave nil.

It had taken nearly two weeks of endless scavenging to find an exact replica, as Jason insisted on the same operating functions. When Serena had naively thought she'd found one, she practically jumped for joy, before realising the button was a different shape and on the wrong side…

So when they _did_ eventually find the same model, it seemed miraculous! It had only been there a week, 10 days at best, Bernie's frenzied mind tried to recall, though it didn't really aid the subsiding of panic. It contributed to its growth.

Yes, she knew the thing was very new.

Yes, she knew it was extremely trying to their relationship in finding a new one.

Yes, she knew the prospects when Serena returned- in approximately 17 minutes- were bleak.

No, she did not know what to do.

As if dragging her back to the present, to the current problem, a shrilling scream pierced through from the landing.

 _Oh shit._

In her daydream, more panic-of-a-nightmare, Bernie had neglected the clouds of smoke that had continued in rising through the kitchen passage and drifted through to the proximity of the fire alarm, which was now wailing, emitting a blaring shriek. Taking two steps at a time before making anyone else aware of the issue, she managed to disarm the smoke detector and decided to take on round 2 in getting the microwave out of the way. She managed to shuffle the bulky metal through the patio door, out onto the grass, dumping it down with a little less care than truly intended, ironically a softer landing than the previous appliance, which had been in perfect order until being moved.

Hands on her hips to straighten out, being sure to have felt a sharp twinge to her back in the trial, Bernie looked disgustedly down to the machine lying sideways on the cropped greenery, door now hanging askew from the crash.

"I'll get you for this," She muttered, before pausing momentarily, shaking her head in realising she was talking to a microwave- a dead one at that.

"I'm home!" She heard a faded call from the other entrance to the house, screwing her eyes tightly shut, willing time to slow down- freeze even- just this once.

There were two options, Bernie thought: Not mention it and hope Serena wouldn't need to use the microwave until she'd ventured to find a new replica, or go in there, sweetness and light, to try and let her down gently.

 _Deep breath, Major._

"You won't _believe_ the shift I've- what's that smell?" Serena stopped a foot into the kitchen, handbag slumped on the side, frown on her face.

Okay, one option.

"What have you burnt, Bernie?" Serena pressed on when no immediate reply was given.

"Right," She shuffled closer, probably a big mistake already.

An audible sigh and shrug came from her partner, who now leant against the sideboard previously occupied by the deceased appliance.

"You know that microwave?" Bernie edged quietly, opting to begin the explanation, let Serena figure out the rest, and then plead innocence. Simple, though risky… or so it seemed in theory.

Serena's eyes narrowed, before darting to the empty space on the marble top.

"Where is it?" Serena demanded flatly.

"The garden."

"Oh for _Christ's sake,_ Bernie…" She whispered furiously, sweeping past as Bernie jumped out of her path, towards the gadget's graveyard.

"How the _hell_ did you manage that one?" Serena hissed, arms folded at the door, gazing out to the ruin.

"I don't know! It must have been faulty, Serena!"

"What? Because we've had it a week?!" Serena spun around to face her partner, who was partly hiding behind the doorframe. "We've had that bloody thing a week, Bernie! And you've managed to blow it up!"

Bernie sheepishly followed her further into the garden, hanging back to watch her investigation from a safer distance.

A moment passed as Serena poked each button.

"They won't work anyway if it's not plugged in." Bernie pointed out, too plainly it would seem.

"I don't think you are in _any_ position to be giving advice here, Ms Wolfe." Serena snapped back, but did stop prodding around at her comment.

"See? Nothing to do with me!" Bernie held her hands up in surrender, taking another confident step closer.

"Oh…" Serena lowly chuckled, a dangerous response Bernie had come to learn. "You want to bet, Major?" She stood back up, beating a spoon in her hand.

"Oh, whoops…" Bernie mumbled, taking a smaller step back as Serena made her advances closer to her.

"Oh whoops, indeed." Serena speculated, still drumming the metal culprit on her palm. "Well, I was intending on using the microwave tonight because those potatoes take forever in the oven. But that'll give you time to look online for another exact…again." A small smirk creeping onto her face.

"On it." Bernie sprang back into the house- considering to have got away lightly on that- leaving Serena shaking her head fondly as she followed her back inside, an amused smile playing on her lips. With anyone else- Jason even- she'd ring their bloody necks. With Bernie though… how could she?


	3. Chapter 3

"You are worse than these kids," Serena growled, collapsing onto the sofa with a deflated sigh. She loved spending time with the fletchlings, especially knowing it was helping Fletch out to keep them occupied for the afternoon. She remembers the testing times of engaging Elinor in her childhood and feels helpless, even now, at the thought of four of her.

"Why, what have I done now?" Serena can't help but laugh at Bernie's soft innocence; this woman really did move at 100mph and have no recollection of the disaster left behind her. It was expected of the kids, well, Ella and Theo. They would be engrossed in colouring, spreading a multitude of bright pencils across the carpet, before upping sticks and darting off to explore the garden, or demand one of them to count to a million for them to scamper off and hide. Bernie glanced up, with the same confused expression, from where she sat cross-legged on the floor with Theo in her lap, Ella constructing a wall of Lego.

"Who's idea was it to build a fort in the spare room?" Serena addressed the entire room in a brighter tone, though her eyes remained pinned to Bernie, whose fell at the brief realisation.

"Theo." She replied quickly, pointing to the toddler in her arms. "I'll tidy it up later, Serena. Promise." Bernie's laid-back nature often clashed with her girlfriend's demand for structure and stability, something she had never really experienced of the insecure situations in the field. It made these days all the better.

"Too late, Ms Wolfe." Serena hummed, getting up once more and padded out to the kitchen, where Bernie heard the gentle clattering of china and presumed she'd be making tea, to destress probably.

"Love you," Bernie called out above the rumbling kettle, still positioned amongst the plastic bricks with Theo comfortable on her and swore she heard an unconvinced hum from the kitchen.

She continued to listen to Ella's animated description of the castle she was building, ordering Bernie to make different patterns in the walls, whilst explaining what she planned to do next (something she was almost sure had been developed from Serena) and, by the lack of chatter or movement from Theo, she had come to the conclusion he'd drifted off to sleep cuddled into her.

Serena drifted back from the kitchen, but stopped against the doorframe to watch the uninterrupted scene of Ella's quiet discussion- well, more direction- to Bernie, who gently rocked a sleepy Theo back and forth in her arms.

"Where's mine?" Bernie inquired, on noticing Serena at the door, indicating to the singular mug wrapped up in her hands.

"Upstairs amongst the bombsite you lot left." Serena smirked, leaning forward to place it on the coaster nearest the playsite, receiving silent thanks by a kiss, and retreated back to the kettle.

"He's not going to be waking up any time soon, is he?" Serena marvelled at Bernie's relaxed nature with the children, considering she was usually bouncing from the walls at the idea of staying in all weekend, something which rarely happened but had somehow come about by 1) the unfortunate weather today and 2) the drunken state they'd spiralled into on Friday, which had consequently led to quite a hungover, uneventful Saturday.

"What can I say?" Bernie winked over to the sofa Serena had finally curled up into, glancing down to Theo shuffling in her hold, before squeezing his eyes shut and blinking them open, as if on queue.

"Spoke too soon," Serena chuckled, jumping from her seat to help, leaning over behind Bernie and hoisting the disorientated toddler into the air and onto her hip.

"Was Bernie moving around too much, my lovely?" Serena chimed, planting him on her lap back on the sofa. "She wakes me up too." She smirked, receiving a narrow glare from across the room, Bernie still occupied with constructing the walls on the mat.

"Ha bloody ha, Campbell." Bernie retorted flatly, returning her attention to fixing together the minute bricks… what she wouldn't give for a tube of super glue right now.

"Excuse me, young ears present." Serena sternly warned, covering Theo's ears, though with a mischievous glint to her gaze.

"It wasn't your idea to cause a literal wreck of my spare room, was it Theo? You wouldn't do that." Serena affectionately asked, jigging her knees slightly in causing the toddler to giggle, now fully awake.

"It wasn't _me._ " Bernie declared, scanning the area for stray blocks.

"No! It wasn't Theo! It was Bernie!" Ella exclaimed, eyes wide, as if an obvious fact.

"Ah! Well, there we have it, Ms Wolfe! If _Ella_ said it was you- well, it must be true!" Serena chuckled at the gaping shock on her girlfriend's face at the blatant betrayal from her companion.

"I thought we were friends." Bernie gasped, shaking her head at Serena's chuckles.

"So, Ella, I take it was Bernie who made all that mess too?" Serena probed sweetly.

"That's a biased question. Not fair." Bernie shot back, too late it appeared, as she turned to find Ella nodding exaggeratively.

Serena hummed in victory, receiving a questioned look, uncertain of prospects.

"Well, why don't you come and help me make lunch, Ella, and we can leave Bernie to tidy up the castle?" Serena smiled brightly, as Ella pushed herself up from the table almost immediately. Bernie smiled to herself at the partial win, realising it wouldn't take a lot to break the walls up, with minimal mayhem if she snapped it into the box.

"Ah, you have to break it up first, Ella!" Serena pointed to the building, resulting in Ella tumbling over to it and crashing the bricks, sending them flying across the floor.

"There we go!" Serena cheered as Ella returned, sniggering at Bernie's evidently miffed look, glaring up to her partner.

"And if I end up standing on a stray brick later, you will most certainly know about it, darling." Serena beamed, before being lead out into the kitchen by tiny footsteps.


	4. Chapter 4

**I just really really like popcorn.  
I also had a lengthy discussion with a friend about the kind of films Bernie and Serena would watch, as well which horror scene would be best. I've never seen Woman In Black, I'm too much of a wimp for that, hence the amount of FLUFF! However, I did watch the scene described for the research into this fic. It scared me.  
The film referred to as Bernie's choosing is called 'Suite Française' and I have it on good authority that it is a highly recommended watch. Anyway, enjoy!**

"What'd I miss?" Bernie mumbled, crunching on the overestimated mouthful of popcorn she'd sneakily shoved before turning the corner to Serena's view and jumping to the side suddenly, narrowly missed the chance for the contents of the huge bowl to slide too far up the metal sides and fly majestically across the floor.

"Not much considering I couldn't work out where the bloody pause button was until I heard the popping out there." Serena mused, tossing the unfamiliar remote across to the armchair, it bouncing against the plump cushion and falling to the floor with a thud. "Christ, Bern, that bowl is meant for salad, not to feed the three thousand with bloody popcorn- how much did you make?"

"We've had it since October, Serena." Bernie scoffed, prompting with her hand for her partner to move from the lazed position sprawled across the entire sofa. "And besides, you've not used this for salad _ever._ It's so much more effective for popcorn." She justified, hugging it tighter and turning away when Serena moved forward for it. When Bernie had offered to make the next lot of snacks, Serena had been delighted and distraught in equal measures for the grumble to her belly called for attention but she'd been _so_ comfortable…

It had all started when Morven had brought in a _literal_ bucket of popcorn onto AAU, after discovering her old popcorn maker (childhood saviour, she'd called it) in the storage she'd been reluctant to venture through since Arthur's death. The task had turned out to be very positive, though not so productive, as she had explained to Serena the next day, turning up cheerfully to the nurse's station and planting the bulky container to the desk.

Turns out the confectionary was a winner by the whole ward, especially by Serena who had discovered how much healthier it was compared to the usual crisps, and even more so when she learned of the shiraz flavouring recipe during her break. This was when she broke.

"Bernie. We need a popcorn maker." Was more of a demand than a suggestion, considering it was boomed across the ward, and the smile hinted to a pre-determined delight than prospect. Bernie didn't need any more persuading than that.

So here they were, on one of the rare occasions of mutual time off ward duties: no out-of-hours-didn't-sign-up-for-this-too meetings, no tragic incident in the hospital's proximity that teared the trauma team away from the housebound comforts, not even an unavoidable family event that hauled them from their sanctuary. It was a unique moment of bliss. However, every silver lining had a cloud, and the initial plans of a drive out to the coast had been halted at the 'funny noise the brakes made', according to Serena. Once pronounced cactus by a frustrated Bernie, they'd retreated to the house and had _somehow_ ended up changing back into comfortable clothing and migrating to the front room, debating whether to make it official and declare a film day. The motion was carried readily, particularly when Serena discovered the kernels in the cupboard- that was game over.

Two films down, the first of Bernie's choosing- a romantic war film set in the 1940s- and Serena had been overtly reluctant to begin with, but had ended up crying and laughing with more volume than the one who had actually opted to watch it in the first place. Serena had got her own back on the emotional rollercoaster she'd been subject to enduring by adamantly selecting _Mamma Mia_ next, and to Bernie's dismay, the singalong version, which meant the excuse of unknown lyrics was well and truly below the waterline, sinking rapidly. With the same change of heart that Serena had previously felt, by the first few chords of _Take a Chance On Me_ Bernie was as impassioned by the melodies and the pair falling into a perfect duet, just like their practice on AAU.

They'd settled on a horror now; the genre being Bernie's choice and Serena specifying which particular thriller she preferred the look of. All had been going well, and though Serena had held a slightly tightened grip to Bernie's arm on a couple occasions, she had managed to refrain from burying her head in her side for a whole twenty minutes- a triumph for Serena Campbell. Not much scared Bernie; it took a lot to make her flinch, let alone truly invoke fear. Possibly her army conditioning, but more likely the dark nights she would spend watching terrifying old-age horrors in the speckled black and white, alone. Of course, it had been nerving the first few times, but she'd eventually worked around the idea of fiction, knowing that the fantasy couldn't hurt her.

Serena, on the other hand, had no inclination to endure the pulse-racing, anxiety-inducing works; she drew the line at late reruns of _Cold Blood_ in the dark and had often woken up in those nights to check the back door, images of a hefty man in a vivid yellow raincoat traipsing around the garden being enough to unsettle her until she resolved the apprehension by inspecting every room, peeping through the curtains to the lamp-lit streets.

Bernie had stolen the bowl back now, half empty in record time. Regardless of proportion, the remaining content was still quite of a considerable quantity, though Bernie had nearly broken a tooth on a stray, unpopped kernel in absent-minded munching, totally engrossed in the scene before her.

In watching him lift the lost, ruffled chick back to its nest, Bernie hadn't one glimpse of an underlying air of suspicion, as with most stereotypical horror scenes, where the eerie build up and frantic, disjointed tunes caused prediction to the next jumpy motion. So when the tranquil melody continued in the background, much like that of a period drama's riverside walk in life contemplation, Bernie hadn't expected a squawking crow to burst through the window. And in doing so, she violently juddered, muscles tensing across her whole body. Like a shot of electricity passing through a current, her shock transferred to Serena, who revolted away from her partner by a jump.

"Jesus Bernie!" Serena managed in a heightened whisper, hand clasped to her heavy beating heart, pounding viciously against her ribs, thumping strongly through to her palm.

Unfortunately, it wasn't _just_ the women who had received the surprise, as Bernie's precipitous reaction had caused a spectacular shower of popcorn and heavy dusting of sugar to scatter onto the sofa and surrounding carpet. Bernie sat, both motionless and unable to utter a word, frozen for a moment, before being prompted to respond by a solid swat to her arm.

"Big macho army medic _bollocks,_ " Serena scorned, prising the fairly empty bowl from Bernie's clutch and scooping the remainder out into her mouth, carefree if Bernie didn't know better.

"That wasn't fair! I didn't expect it!" Bernie protested, surveying the mess she'd made.

"Darling, it's a horror film. It's meant to scare you and surprise you. Not to flash a bloody warning before each fright." Serena's expression had softened to a fond smile, the kind of sympathy Bernie had got the time she'd forgotten the toast the bread before putting the cheese on it, or the time she'd jammed her hand in the door because she'd got her coat caught on the handle. It wasn't _quite_ forgiveness in this situation, but it was much more welcomed than the fury she'd instantly anticipated.

"Not the point," Bernie grumbled, deciding to brave it and brush the rest of the crumbs and sticky residue from the sugary sprinkle onto the floor. Easier to deal with in one place.

"Note to self, Campbell. Stick to romances and musicals. Once the popcorn is out of the way, that is." Serena hummed, following Bernie's movements in standing up and head for the hoover.


	5. Chapter 5

Serena squinted against the harsh light stripping through, invading her shadowed room, and rolled over in a tangle of blanket to turn away from the offending rays, it taking a moment to register that the space she'd fallen into was empty and the room was Bernieless- she even peered over the side of the mattress onto the cream carpet, in case her partner had fallen out and had resided on the rug; Serena often marvelled at how Bernie could drop off to sleep anywhere, claiming to be comfortable and actually gain from her slumber- although when awkwardly curled up in the office chair after finishing her own long shift and waiting for her girlfriend to clock off, Serena was _not_ convinced.

A brief wave of motivated curiosity moved Serena to sit up in the bed, but decided against actually investigating quite yet. Often, Bernie would get up early to delightfully surprise Serena with tea and pastries in bed, particularly in encouragement for a shift in the early hours and, as if in sync, Serena would usually stir in Bernie's absence and rise herself, somewhat ruining the gesture that intended the morning to set off to a relaxed tone. Learning from this after numerous occasions, Serena flopped back down onto the pillows and pondered on other possibilities.

Maybe she'd gone for a run? No, Bernie always left a note, usually scribbled on whatever was to hand, as scattered as she was. Last time, it had been the prescription Serena had left out to prompt her to pick it up.

Maybe there had been an emergency? No, surely she would have woken her? Or at least left an explanation. There had only been a handful of times that one of the surgeons had been called in whilst both absent, mainly for the reason that the occurrence of them both having time off was rarer than snow in April. But, it did happen occasionally.

It wasn't curiosity, in the end, that plucked Serena from the luxury of a lie in, but the panic when she heard an almighty crash ricochet from downstairs _somewhere,_ bouncing loudly through the hallway.

As she silently descended, treading carefully to avoid the particularly creaky step, Serena could hear hushed curses from the kitchen, and closed her eyes in preparation for whatever disaster lied ahead.

"What have you- oh." Serena's initial question halted at the sight before her. "It's July, Bern. Why does the kitchen look like a winter wonderland?"

Bernie spun around from the…situation she'd created at the sink, mouth open for response but failed to form audible words. Across the entire room, the dark marble sides had been dusted with a white sprinkle, the only structure in the room _not_ to have been caught out had been the fridge, mainly because it stood on the opposite wall.

"I hope you've not hurt him again." Serena pointed to their newest addition, the replacement microwave from Bernie's last unfortunate escapade in the kitchen.

"No, no… well I don't think so anyway." Bernie garbled; she shook her unruly mop of hair falling across her hopeless expression and blinding her from Serena's, probably neutral, face. Serena Campbell's ultimate anger was usually hidden well and her greatest weapon to strike when her opponent felt safest, something Bernie had observed amongst meetings with insubordinate F1s and she had had the unfortunate experience of herself, on numerous occasions. Her hands were held awkwardly and full of rich bubbles in front of her body, which sported a heavy load of the flour she'd liberally decorated the room with.

But Serena _wasn't_ angry. Yeah, it surprised her too, especially amid such chaos.

Being with Bernie, she'd learnt rather quickly, was not- never was going to be- perfect. She was a walking catastrophe in the domestic setting, which had initially surprised Serena, considering her efficiency at work…until she recalled the literal dumping ground of an office Serena had returned to after leaving her soon-to-be co-lead in charge in her absence. But Bernie tried, and that was all that really mattered; it was a lot more than Edward had ever done, and had become something, whilst extremely inconvenient and irritating at the best of times, it had weirdly grown on her. Life was too short to live so seriously and the flexibility of a laid-back lifestyle was something Serena was beginning to mould into. Besides, it was always interesting to see what kind of difficulty Bernie could get herself into. Because if _anyone_ could find trouble, it was her Major. She surveyed the disaster site, and located the metal bowl, presumable source of the clattering, rolled on its side against the cupboard door, leaving a heavier trail of white powder behind it.

"Do I want to know?" Serena chuckled softly, walking across the room to Bernie, who hadn't uttered a word more.

"Probably not," She admitted, matching the smile of Serena's amusement with one of slight apprehension.

"And there I was," Serena started, leaning behind her partner to turn off the tap that had been neglected in Bernie's panic. "thinking I'd get a cup of tea before the day began."

"You'll be glad to know I haven't touched the microwave." Bernie smiled innocently, reaching for the towel to brush off most of the flour from her arms, which resulted in another strong white cloud drifting to the floor. Serena grinned, snatching the towel and lightly brushed off Bernie's top, more flour floating to the dark tiles.

"You really are determined to use that bowl for anything but salad, aren't you darling?" she chided, now using the towel to swat Bernie's leg under the pretence of removing more flour.

"If you must know, I was aiming to make pancakes." Bernie grumbled, arms now folded against her chest as she leaned into the corner of the counter.

Yet again, Serena's heart fluttered at both the adorably disappointed frown of her girlfriend's and at the sweet ambition of her early rise.

"We still can." Serena declared, moving swiftly and surprising Bernie at her dismissive approach to the destruction of the kitchen that surrounded them. "Come on, soldier!" Serena retrieved the bowl from its abandon, moving closer to Bernie, she flicked remaining flour at her.

With instant response, Bernie launched forward, holding her arm firmly around Serena's waist, and planted a substantial dollop of foamy bubbles to her face.

"Nice try, Campbell."


	6. Chapter 6

**Last bit! Sorry for the delay but thank you so much for reading. Hope this is a half-decent +1!**

Sometimes, Bernie wondered why the hell she bothered…

One of such occasions happened to be now, when she was balancing in a one-legged pose on a seemingly unsteady stool, arms spanning as wide as possible, trembling under the heavy and awkward weight of the curtain pole.

"You bastard," She muttered, again trying to coax the wooden frame into a very obnoxious hook at the other end. She sighed in equal relief and triumph at the accomplishment, before jumping down to the ground, noting the stray coat hanger stuck underneath the plastic stool- the sole responsibility behind its rocky nature.

Standing in the middle of the room, Bernie scanned her surroundings, before taking a slower gaze to her efforts. She didn't bother to suppress the smile: why would she when she was in the room alone? That and she was bloody proud so far.

It had been the plan for months; Serena had been desperate for…how did she put it? 'A more vibrant and jazzier feel' to their bedroom. She had meticulously planned the transformation, totally blinded by the project for at least 3 weeks, leaving Bernie to take care of the normal domestic tasks. Serena would collapse into comfort from her shift, regardless of how tense, enduring or chaotic, by flicking through decorating guides, poring over each design in the homeware magazines, scribbling endlessly in a glossy notebook- all the while being dutifully supplied with shiraz by her partner, hoping it would make her just that little bit less coherent and give the planning a rest for the night. One time, Bernie had woken suddenly, disorientated to the fact that a) there was little in the way of sunshine bursting into their room and b) Serena was nowhere to be seen, or heard for that matter. On investigation, Bernie had stalked out into the hallway (lamp in hand, held out for defence) to find Serena measuring the mirror on the landing, again jotting in her notebook. And she'd asked Bernie what _she_ was doing at 3 in the morning!

Little did she know, that notebook would be the answer to her prayers.

Henrik had arrived, more glided silently, into their office one morning and, as direct as ever, informed the pair of an upcoming trauma medicine conference where Holby's invitation required one consultant and a nurse to attend.

"She'll go." Bernie instantly, very flatly replied, pointing directly across the room before Serena had even had chance to open her mouth.

"Oh, charming. Take your time over the sacrifice, won't you darling? Bloody-" Serena muttered, glancing up to the CEO shuffling by the doorway. "Yes, alright. If I must. But I'm not taking Fletch; he'll drive me nuts."

"Too late, boss." Came an amused chime from outside the office and Bernie suppressed a grin matching the cheeky smile Fletch sported, as he spun around the door and then back out as quickly, followed by Hanssen.

Serena had reluctantly left the following Wednesday morning, hoping to be back by Friday evening. Bernie had been on a later shift when Serena had departed to pick up Fletch in the hours of dawn. After pottering around aimlessly, she'd pulled out a box from under the bed (trying to find the odd sock she had _definitely_ seen recently) and Serena's abandoned plans for their bedroom had fallen out too. Aware she hadn't actually seen the ideas after pages 2 or 3, she sat against the wall and continued to turn through the booklet in awe of how precise her girlfriend had been, cutting out different patterns and colours, mapping out brief layouts, noting measurements for all sorts-rug, curtains, wardrobe space. The woman was a genius and Bernie marvelled at the bright spark that'd been lit.

After a _trying_ shift, to say the least, she'd trekked around several retail parks, collecting items on the list Serena had gone to the trouble of adding at the back of the book, price and all. It really was a fool-proof (Bernie proof, at least) guide to how she'd envisioned their sanctuary. A couple of items just weren't possible- the exact curtain pole noted had sold out and the deeper grey throw had been decommissioned, but Bernie had used the intuition and courage the guide had given her to pick out something similar. Easy.

Or so she thought.

The buying was a piece of piss. It was putting the room together that was killing her slowly. Thank Christ it was only one wall of paper! Bernie had tackled it overly optimistically, had even opted to talking to the vast sheets at one point, hoping the gloopy paste wouldn't slide around _quite_ so much on the wall behind it and would miraculously line itself up. And she had come to realise that dismantling the furniture was a LOT easier than putting it back together again. Somehow, she'd managed to put the bed together upside down… and the wardrobe had been a feat of its own. But, a wrestle with the fairy lights, staring competition with the canvas and kickabout with the chest of drawers later, the room was almost complete.

Bernie had whipped the vacuum around and just put the final pillows on the bed- in rather a frenzy at realising the time- when she heard a familiar call from the hallway.

"How much have you missed me then?" A giggle ascended the staircase, followed by footprints from the giggler herself.

"Surprise," Bernie all but whispered, opening the doorway at the same time as Serena went for the door handle.

For the first time in possibly her life, Serena Campbell was speechless. Dumbfounded. Amazed.

"How- what-" Serena took another slow pace into the room, reaching subconsciously out for Bernie's hand.

"If you don't like it-" Bernie murmured, suddenly realising why Serena might not have gone through with her plan. Serena changed her mind like the weather on a mild spring day.

"Oh shut up." Serena leaned forward into a welcoming embrace, kissing her squarely on the lips. "I love it, Bernie. It's truly beautiful" She grinned, tears pricking her eyes, before confusion masked her face. "But how did you know?"

"Notebook." Bernie pointed to the windowsill, where the glittery diary sat amongst a screwdriver and rag. "Found it the morning you left, actually."

"And you've done all of this yourself?" Serena was astonished, truly astonished. It had never been a hidden talent for Bernie to oversee anything mechanical on the car, or be the one to put the temperamental door back on its hinges when it slammed in the wind, but this was far beyond anything Serena would have ever expected. She thought she'd always be the one lumbered with the interior.

"Yep. Well, I had help from youtube at times. Have you ever taken that bloody bed apart? I mistook the legs for the headboard, then had a who-ha trying to undo the bolts because I'd secured them too tightly."

Serena chuckled, moving them over to sit on the bed.

"My big macho army medic."

"Also, I've ironed all the clothes again." Bernie admitted, shuffling back and pulling Serena with her, against the _ridiculous_ amount of pillows Serena had originally drawn out. A puzzled look faced her. "That wardrobe is satan's work. It collapsed a tad so it took the contents with it."

"Collapsed a tad? Oh, Bern." Serena shook her head, though smiling, and leaned back against her partner.

"Don't look under that cabinet, either." Bernie pointed across the room to the white tower, holding a variety of glass ornaments Serena had never previously had space for.

"Why…" Serena propped herself up and turned to Bernie with narrowed suspicion.

"Kind of dropped a little bit of a paintbrush…"

"Navy blue?! On a cream carpet?! Bernie! Oh, you're hopeless you are." Serena grinned, before resting her head back down onto Bernie's chest. She'd given up on the chiding, for now at least.

"Yeah, but you love me." Bernie ran her hand through Serena's hair, smiling down to her.

"I certainly do."


End file.
